Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5 by Patricia Hagan

to be left alone to make my own decisions!”
    It had not been a pleasant scene. Travis had become angry. Kitty seemed hurt. Dani had not apologized for her outburst, feeling she had a right to state her feelings. She had eventually given in to the idea of the ball, albeit reluctantly, but had no intention of being escorted, no intention of doing anything except play the role of new gallery owner, new shop owner.
    Better a dilettante than a debutante, she had declared to herself.
    Politely, she declined Cyril’s offer. “That’s very kind of you, but I will be so busy I would not be much company for you.”
    Reluctantly, he rose. “I thank you for your hospitality, for granting me a private showing, and should you change your mind about allowing me to be your escort, please let me know.”
    She walked with him to the door. He clasped her hand, raised it to his lips. “You are beautiful,” he told her reverently. “I issue fair warning to all your other suitors that I intend to compete for your company.”
    Dani laughed with pleasure. “I should be honored, monsieur .” She gave a small curtsy, said she would look forward to seeing him at the ball, then said goodbye.
    Cyril took his hat from the butler, then made his way out and down the steps.
    At the wrought-iron gate, he paused to gaze back at the mansion. Two treasures lay within—Dani Coltrane and the painting of the Alexandrovsky Palace.
    He intended to possess both.

Chapter Eight
    No expense had been too large, no detail too small in planning for the spectacular celebration of the grand opening of the antique and art gallery of Mademoiselle Dani Coltrane.
    Due to her father’s political and social position, there was no problem in gaining permission to host the festivities in the famed Tuileries Gardens.
    The gardens held a special place in Dani’s heart, for she loved their symmetrical formality yet found them anything but severe. Their openness and spacious views offered lightness, charm.
    She did not, however, like to think of some of the grim history surrounding them. The dreaded guillotine had been erected near the gates in 1793, and records stated that for the next three years 1,343 people had been decapitated.
    Dani liked to think that the flowers of the gardens bloomed especially for the memories of those poor dead souls. Marigolds lined the path to where the guillotine had stood, with chives in bloom forming pink bouquets. Baltic ivy draped a huge sundial, and, in a lively contrast of form and color, yarrow flaunted yellow blossoms above purple hibiscus and orange tiger lilies.
    Little had been changed since André Le Nôtre laid out the gardens two hundred years before, in 1664. He had been born right in the garden, in the gardener’s cottage, and had also died there.
    Carrying out the line of his central allée beyond and out into the country, a path traced straight along the wooded hill to the west of the palace. It was on this hilltop, one hundred and seventy years later, in 1834, that the Arc de Triomphe was erected, in celebration of Napoleon’s victorious campaigns of 1805.
    At the eastern edge of the garden, Napoleon III had erected a hothouse, which was called the Orangerie, and a court for tennis—the Jeu de Paume.
    The formal exit gate was flanked by two winged horses, dating back to the seventeenth century, and gave a splendid view of the Place de la Concorde, the moat-skirted octagon designed by Jacques Ange Gabriel in 1753.
    Had inclement weather prevailed, the festivities could have been moved on short notice into the palace. However, on the day of the event, conditions of nature could not have been better. Though the air was cool with the promise of fall, skies were clear and void of clouds. By midafternoon, a brightly smiling sun had bestowed warmth upon Paris…and the gardens.
    Canopies of silk, in every color of the rainbow, and mounted upon shining brass spears, dotted the lush, green landscape. Each color designated a